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She is good for two hours. Then the pains start bullying her
again. Her back, her neck, her head, her insides -- all the warring parts of her
body -- rise up to beat her. If she hesitates to act, they throw her down,
throttle her, make her wish she were dead.
So Angel McClary Raich takes more marijuana, buying another two hours.
Diane Monson is a bit luckier. She can function for up to four hours before her
spine reverts to being her enemy. Then she needs another dose of cannabis.
In California, Monson and Raich are not so different from about 100,000 other
chronically sick people. They are users of medical marijuana, or cannabis,
examples of why the state's voters passed a law in 1996 legalizing the drug for
the seriously ill or dying. But the U.S. Justice Department considers all
marijuana a dangerous controlled substance. To the federal government, Raich and
Monson are illegal drug users.
That divide is at the heart of Ashcroft v. Raich, which brought the two women to
the U.S. Supreme Court on Nov. 29 to plead for their right to their
doctor-recommended medical marijuana, and put them in the headlines for several
days.
The Supreme Court arguments were the latest in a series of legal battles between
the women and the federal government. In 2002, Monson and Raich sued Attorney
General John D. Ashcroft after Monson's house was raided by Drug Enforcement
Administration agents who seized her six marijuana plants from her patio.
Monson and Raich eventually won an injunction against the raids in the U.S.
Court of Appeals for the 9th Circuit, which the federal government appealed to
the high court. A ruling is expected sometime before July.
Ashcroft v. Raich, which debates whether the federal government exceeded its
authority to regulate interstate commerce by imposing national drug laws on
state-sanctioned medical cannabis that is not sold, transported across state
lines or used for nonmedicinal purposes, will have crucial implications for at
least 30 pending federal marijuana cases. The cases all involve medical cannabis
growers, patients and dispensary operators who were raided by federal agents in
several of the 11 states that have legalized medical cannabis.
Ashcroft v. Raich also is considered important for those watching the debate
over states' rights vs. federal authority.
But for Raich and Monson, the case is personal.
They want to be able to live their lives. Medical marijuana, they say, makes
that possible. Raich, a 39-year-old mother of two teenagers, suffers from an
inoperable brain tumor, wasting syndrome, tumors in her uterus, endometriosis
and other ailments. She says medical marijuana is keeping her alive.
Monson, a 47-year-old accountant who lives in the Northern California town of
Oroville, has suffered from a degenerative back disorder for 25 years. Without
medical cannabis, she says, she would live, but in such excruciating pain that
it would hardly be worth it.
Raich and Monson are worried. The public is sympathetic to their situations;
polls show up to 80 percent of Americans approve of medical marijuana. But the
federal government has remained steadfast against reclassifying marijuana and
has repeatedly rejected applications from university researchers who want to
study the drug as medicine. During the oral arguments, several Supreme Court
justices raised skeptical questions, concerned that even small amounts of
medical marijuana, obtained for free, were part of a national market for licit
and illicit drugs -- and thus subject to federal regulations.
Even if the court rules that federal agents can continue to raid medical
marijuana patients and growers, the women say, they will continue to use
marijuana as medicine. They say they have no choice.
Raich has been sick longer, with multiple ailments. As a young teen, she had
scoliosis and wore a back brace. She was diagnosed with endometriosis at 16. In
her twenties, as a mother of young children, she developed wasting syndrome --
doctors still do not know why -- and could not keep food down. She started
having seizures, and doctors found a deep brain tumor. Eventually she became
partially paralyzed on one side. In 1995, she ended up in a wheelchair. She was
withering away. She was also in constant pain. Nothing her doctor prescribed
touched it.
In 1997, during a doctor's visit, a nurse who had witnessed Raich's suffering
for years took her aside and asked her if she had ever considered medical
marijuana.
Sitting in her den with her husband, Robert, a lawyer whom she met when he was
helping the Oakland medical cannabis cooperative that she belonged to in its
legal struggles with the Justice Department, Raich recalled how reluctant she
was to become a marijuana user.
"I was really offended at the suggestion," said Raich, who is a pale 98 pounds
on a 5-foot-4 frame. "I was very conservative. I was taught that drugs are bad.
And I followed the law. I've never even gotten a speeding ticket."
But one night, Raich said, her daughter approached her. "She wanted to know why
I couldn't do the things that other mommies do. I promised my children that I
would do anything I possibly could to get better."
That night, she added, "I faced my own conservative ways and my own moral
judgments and I realized that because I loved my children so much and so deeply
-- they are my world -- that I would do everything I possibly could for them."
She asked family members to buy some marijuana on the street. "I immediately
felt relief," she said. "It didn't cure my pain, but it definitely made me feel
better. It didn't make me vomit and it made me hungry, which I didn't normally
feel." She asked her doctor about it, and he agreed that she should try cannabis
as a therapy.
She joined the Oakland Cannabis Buyers Cooperative, she said, and found that
medical-grade cannabis cultivated for patients was more potent than
street-corner pot. The more she smoked or inhaled, she said, the more sensations
she began feeling. She could eat. She could move. Within a year and a half, she
felt strong enough to learn how to walk again. After four years in a wheelchair,
she put it away.
"The minute I became a medical cannabis user," she said, "I became an advocate."
In fact, Raich found Monson after reading about her. Monson and her husband had
been raided by federal agents in August 2002. Despite being shown her doctor's
note, the agents confiscated the plants she had spent so much time cultivating.
"It was extremely stressful," Monson said of the raid. She had started using
medical cannabis in 1998, after her doctor of 20 years recommended it. Many
other painkillers they had tried had failed. For a time, Monson said, she was on
Vioxx, which has since been taken off the market because of safety concerns.
Monson, an avid gardener with an orchard of apple, pear, peach, apricot, cherry
and fig trees, started growing marijuana. "I had some success the first year. By
2002, I had a pretty good stash," she said. "I had them in full sun, out in the
open, thinking I was in full compliance with California law."
Earlier this year, when her husband of 25 years was stricken with pancreatic
cancer, Monson gave him medical cannabis to ease his pain and help increase his
appetite. He died six months ago.
"I make oils and tincture and vapors," she said. "I experiment because the
government, which says it's so unhealthy to smoke it, is not studying it. We're
not getting the best delivery system, so we're not getting the full benefits of
a drug that can help so many people."
Monson, a literacy volunteer in Oroville who also manages several rental
properties she owns, said none of her businesses or passions have suffered since
she began using medical cannabis. In fact, they have thrived.
She plans to grow her marijuana plants again this year.
Raich, too sick to grow her own, is extremely grateful that she has caregivers
growing it for her. "May of this year my brain tumor specialist said that my
tumor had stabilized," she said. "I really consider cannabis my miracle. I
really owe my life to it, and I'm not going to let anyone, including the
government, take it away from me."
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